Chapter Text
The Lady Josephine Montilyet was a skilled diplomat.
One of the best, if you were to believe the rumors, but given that she could ruin a marriage with a handkerchief and ten minutes, Cassandra was inclined to not ask for proof.
Josephine was also skilled at seemingly anything she put her mind to. The result of years of study, she claimed. And as impressed -and creeped out- as the Seeker had been by seeing the Antivan effortlessly puppeteer ambassador and royalty alike, she was slightly more impressed- and creeped out- by Josephine’s ability to get into her head.
Maybe it’s because she expected sweet, thoughtful Josephine to be a pacifist, but no, Josephine Montilyet was a master at verbal sparring. When Josie was happy, Skyhold bloomed with flowers. Small, adorable animals appeared to the delight of the children and civilians in the encampment. The drapes were aired, the bards played better, and the smell of perfume and the sound of laughter was everywhere.
When Josie was in a bad mood…
The first time she witnessed this first-hand, Cassandra was pacing in the war room, muttering to herself. Dawn was on the way after a long cold night, and her eyes ached in her skull for some respite , but she paced, paused to glare at the map, and paced again.
Bandits in the hills were the cause of her ire, and Leliana and Cullen had retired hours ago, but the reports of dead Inquisition soldier lay clenched in her fist, goading her away from sleep.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Pause.
Glare.
Pace.
“Seeker?” The soft lilt of the Antivan accent snapped her back to reality from thoughts of grieving families. Josephine was standing at the door, holding a flickering stub of a candle. Her clothes and hair were fancy as always, but mashed enough to suggest she had dozed at her desk. And yet she still managed to look fancy. Because of course she did.
“It’s nearly dawn! Come, you should get some rest.” She padded across the floor, soft hand resting on Cassandra’s shoulder. The warmth soaked through Cassandra's worn shirt instantly. Josie was a heat scource all unto herself. ’‘I worry about y-“
’'Don’t.”
Cassandra jerked away. She didn’t particularly mean to, it was a cross between soldiers instinct and the sheer inability to let herself seem like she needed help. That old damned Pentaghast pride, rising to the surface.
By the time she looked up at Josephine, she caught the last glimpse of hurt before it was buried under the polite ambassadors smile.
''I didn't mean-''
''People are dead. We need to fix this problem, and worry will not help us.''
Even as Cassandra said it, she knew she sounded like a cold bastard.
The Antivan inclined her head graciously with a practised veneer that made Cassandras’ heart sink.
But before the soldier could reach out and apologise for her abrupt nature, Josie withdrew her hand and stepped back, creating a space between them.
“How silly of me, I apologise. Have a good night, Seeker.”
She padded off to bed, poised even for a woman snoring at her desk moments earlier, and Cassandra sighed, staring after her.
Even after thoughts of dead soldiers and ambushes, her mood seemed to sour even more, and the reports were left crumpled on the war table as she took her leave.
She had lost the appetite for plans.
***
Dawn rose, and Cassandra was still lying in bed, completely awake, staring blearily at the canopy overhead.
What did Josephine mean ’how silly of me?’ The ambassador was clever, she knew her words were weapons, she used them like Cassandra used her blade, so what did she MEAN by -
Get a grip of yourself, Pentaghast.
Cassandra groaned and jammed her pillow over her ears, willing the sleep to come.
But no, Skyhold awoke around her and Josephines’ little sentence chimed irritatingly in her ears.
How silly of me… Did she think it was silly to try and be friendly? Or was it silly because she approached a warrior from the side? Should she have expected a startled reaction? What was Josie getting at?
Ugh.
Cassandra rose, dressed, ate, trained, consulted the Inquisitor, and did all of that with only half her focus. Oh, she tried, but Josephines' jibe just dragged her back again and again. It had burrowed into her mind like a parasite, and the stubborn little bastard wasn't moving an inch.
Was it silly because she didn’t expect Cassandra to have a problem with being ordered around? No, that wasn’t the problem at all, Josie would have known….
She caught herself idling in a corridor, deep in thought over this and made a disgusted noise that startled the shit out of a passing Dorian. He invited her for Wicked Grace at the Tavern, but knowing Josie was going to be there made her turn it down.
Her head was wrecked enough already.
***
Varric told her she had a face like thunder over breakfast. She told him to kindly store his head up his own behind. Admitting to over-thinking this one stupid thing, to Varric, would be admitting a weakness that he didn't need to know she had.
Cassandra didnt think she could stand his smug expression this time in the morning.
Was it silly because Josie realised that Cassandra was capable and didn’t need to be worried after?
….No, that wasnt it either. Why did she care? Why did Josie even care whether or not Cassandra was a bit abrupt?
And WHY was she over-thinking this? Cassandra realised with a rush of irritation, scowling at the maps she had been absently poring over.
There was a hole in the sky and the Bandit threat required her attention. Who cared if Josie was being pedantic over an imagined slight?
Not her. Not one bit.
On the way to dinner, she noticed bouquets of fresh lilies adorning the hall, and wondered if Josephine knew she hated them.
***
How silly of me.
It was infuriating. A stupid mind-game she couldn’t get out of.
Sitting around and sighing over petty squabbles was for powdered Orlesian ladies, not the Right Hand of the Divine.
Not her.
This was Josies' petty way of messing with Cassandra’s mind, and the seeker could FEEL that she was playing right into her thrice-damned trap.
…but what did it mean?
UGH.
Her meal the next evening was lumpy Ferelden ...sludge that passed as meat stew. Which she definitely mentioned disliking, to Josie before. She didn't bother going to the kitchens- the servants all loved Josie and she didnt want her food spat in. Cassandra left her bowl untouched. She knew when she was fighting a losing battle.
***
After the third night of little sleep, Cassandra found herself glaring at the canopy as dawn once more arrived.
And then she cursed. Loudly.
“How silly of me.” To assume that Cassandra would have been human enough to accept the affection with even the tiniest bit of warmth and grace.
How silly of me to think you’d be thoughtful enough to not take my kindness and throw it back in my face.
Josie didn’t say that, but Cassandra could almost hear her in her head, and she groaned, pressing a hand to her face.
Josie wasn't being needlessly petty, she was hurt. Cassandra had hurt the kindest, most lovliest person who she ever had the privilege to be cared for by.
It was as simple as that. And she'd spent days pondering over a phrase instead of dealing with the problem.
Maker, she was such a… what was the phrase Sera often used? Arsebiscuit. Yes. That one.
***
Morning broke and Skyhold busied itself once more. Refugees to house and horses to shod and Demonic sky-breaches to destroy, etc.
Josphine was already awake and moving about when Cassandra knocked, and of course when she answered the door, she was already bathed, dressed, and disgustingly presentable for this time of the morning.
Cassandra, in comparison, was quite aware that she looked like a dishevelled mess in comparison.
Josies' face settled into a pleasant mask when she saw Cassandra, and the seeker felt a guilty twinge in her gut.
“I am sorry.” She blurted out, before Josie could say anything. She hadn’t slept, was still in her pyjamas, embarrassed and tired, but she was going to put this right. Pentaghast pride be damned.
“I hurt you, and I am truly sorry. I’d never mean to-” Maker, she was rambling. In desperation, she tried to change to a more diplomatic speel. Cassandra cleared her throat, drew herself up to her full height, and attempt to regain the bits of dignity that was trickling slowly through her fingers.
“ It was not my intent to seem ungrateful for your concern. I don’t know where I’d be without it. I hope you can forgive me. ”
There was a small pause, and then Josie's arm pulled her in close, beaming.
Josephine didn’t so much smile as she lit up a room with the way her eyes brightened and creased at the corners. Cassandra’s hugs were brief and awkward, but were tight and soft and so welcoming and warm that Cassandra wondered how she had even survived three days without this womans approval.
It was like being lit by the sun.
“I have to write to the Marquis de Verenne urgently about a…delicate matter involving a goatherd and some dead templars. But you get some rest. Oh, we can have tea when you wake! A friend in Val Royeaux just sent me some little lemon-y cakes.”
As Josie chattered, Cassandra was ushered towards a soft bed with silken sheets and unbelievably fluffed pillows. She was shooed into lying down and sinking into the soft mattress, a blanket flapped gently over her in quick succession. As Josie squeezed her hand and bustled away to write her letters, Cassandra had to marvel at how lucky they were to have Josephine on their side.
Not only because she was a wonderful person to have care for you, but because Cassandra was pretty sure that Josie's enemies got a little worse than a disappointing meal and some verbal needling.
Cassandra yawned against the feather-down pillows, and with Josie humming quietly in the corner, she allowed herself a contented smile, and drifted off to sleep.